Supermarket scowl

(Note I received the following thoughts on writing checks from my son’s wife, Alexis Hershberger, recently. I am passing along an edited version to you. She shops in the big, busy city of New Orleans.)
Not so many years ago, cash was the accepted method of payment at the grocery store. Checks were the ultimate evil, akin to having one too many items in the express line.
Only “callused, disruptive, murderous menaces to society” sort of people would hold up the smooth flow of the check-out line to write a check.
When someone such as me did dare pull out the checkbook the whole store breathed a collective sigh irritation – the grocery store clerk would lean up against her register and call over the PA system asking the manager to come to her stand and authorize a check. The manager hustled over as quickly as possible to validate my check.
As I waited for the manager, the clerk would give me the cold shoulder. The air was so thick with distaste, disapproval and utter disgust from fellow shoppers, I could have cut it with a knife. As the shameless check-writer, I died a hundred deaths paying for my groceries.
Then came the proliferation of check writing. Suddenly paying by check was socially acceptable and definitely preferable to carrying cash. Sales clerks could scan checks faster, did not have to wait for authorization every time – once the account was in the system – and grocery store checkout lanes flowed harmoniously. Paying by cash even became a novelty as the years passed.
Only too soon, check writing was replaced with the advent of credit cards, ATM debit cards or bank cards. As a means of payment, the cards are fast. The clerk does not have to count the change or approve a check. With a credit card, the customer does not even need to keep track of how much she can afford to buy that day – she just buys and pays later. Bank cards were a great revolution in the grocery store line, for everyone – except the check writer. Checks once again were a social sin.
I know because the other day I couldn’t find my bank card. I had to use my checkbook. The shocked clerk took one look at my checkbook and slumped with silent despair that said, “I can’t believe she is going to hold up the line.”
The people behind me barely contained their contempt as they impatiently waited. The quick scan method for the check wasn’t quick enough. The clerk had to stop and think to remember how to properly ID me for the check. An eternity passed as I went through the approval process.
I could fee everyone behind me in the line thinking, “Why doesn’t she use a credit card or something like that to make payment faster? We have paces to go and people to see! Why is she wasting one precious minute of our time?”
Once my check was approved, canceled and filed away, I grabbed my bags of groceries, crept out of the store and drove away from the scene of my crime as quickly as I could.
As I made my escape, I marveled at how quickly bank cards had replaced checks as the socially proper method of payment and vowed to never misplace mine again.